July 2011

One thing that’s been on my mind this week that I need to get resolved is tattoos.

I don’t have any.

Not a one.

It always seems to be the one thing that surprises people about me.  They assume I do, for some reason.  I don’t know.  I must have that bad girl look.

I’m torn, because I don’t know if it would change how attractive I am, although I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  I wonder if I’d think I were prettier.  Studies have shown that statistically, women with tattoos are less (scientifically) attractive than those who don’t have them (they show the opposite for men).

I’ve had an image picked out for a few years now, and it hasn’t changed, so it’s probably safe to get it.  I just need to grab the concept and make something a little more feasible out of it.  Luckily I have artistic friends.  But I don’t know where I’d put it.  It represents some excellent and personal symbolism to me.  I don’t think I’d regret it.

Of course, thinking about it made me think of another excellent one this week as well.

I’d probably be allergic anyway.  I’m no good with piercings.  Maybe my body just wants to stay the way it is…hmmm…


“She falls asleep with her hands in fists

That slowly uncurl in the ether of dreams.”

It’s really tempting to just say things like, “This week can suck it!” when you’ve had a crappy few days, but frankly awesome stuff is happening too so it’s hard to generalize.  Oh, but generalizing is so much fun!

I have a fucking STAPH INFECTION in my leg.  I thought I had a bug bite, and for some dumb reason thought I’d post it to Facebook, and my friend Bridget suggested I should get my ass to the doctor.  Good move, Bridget!  The doctor drew a circle around the spot and said, “If it goes past here, you need to call me.”  It’s already past there but since I just started my antibiotics, I’m not worried.  My dad made a bad joke about me ending up on crutches this weekend whilst simultaneously urging me to keep an eye on it (will I sleep tonight? who knows?).  I’ve heard the horror stories, imagined my dramatic death at such a young age (always useful in those tragic revenge fantasies a la Anne Shirley), and decided to chill out and let it consume me if it will.  In the meantime, it’s weird.  I mean, who just up and gets a staph infection?

Me, that’s who.

And this on the heels of disappointment in romance.  I really thought that guy was something special.  I’m not new at feeling foolish, just feeling fooled.  That was one confusing ride.  I just wish I could make some sense of the contradictions I heard from this guy over the last two weeks.  I definitely learned something…I’m just not sure what yet.  Instead, I drink wine and focus on other things, like…

Writing!  You motherfuckers are in for some awesome writing.  Because I’m wicked back on track.  I’ve got a few pieces I’m working on again, and I’m really enjoying it.  Some is fiction, some based on true stories, some articles…at this point I’m not sorting it out…just going with it.  It feels fabulous. 

This weekend I’ll be in CT visiting.  I suddenly miss my friends and family desperately.  I need to snuggle some nephews.

I have a feeling there’s going to be an announcement at work tomorrow that’s going to affect my job, but I’m not going to let the possibility of anything stress me out.

This morning I was trying to work with J on his mindfulness of time.  “We have 15 minutes until we have to leave,” I said.  “Is 15 minutes a short time or a long time?”

“Depends on what you’re doing,” he replied.  “If it’s fun, it’s short.  If it’s not, it’s long.”

Touche, darling, and well put.  Such is my week, which can go to hell and also kick ass.  Such is life.

Outside of my apartment windows buzz cicada killer wasps, fighting over territory in this thick heat.  They are huge and look menacing, but they aren’t.  Only the females have stingers, and you have to grab one to get stung.  (Which makes me sort of want to grab a male wasp just to hold it, but not enough to try.)  It’s strange to walk out to the car and see them fly at me as if to say, “This queen is mine – you cannot have her!”  I brush them away with my skirt and carry on.  They’ll be gone by the end of the summer.

My experiment with planting flowers has been somewhat successful.  I didn’t put the time needed into weeding, so there are a few flowers here and there sprouting up amongst grass on the side of the building.  Little bursts of color among the green.  I’d thought about weeding at one point, but I was afraid I’d pull up the flowers with the weeds; I know so little about it.  J says that next year he wants to grow a vegetable garden.  Maybe when I see the tulips come up again by the front steps I’ll feel encouraged again.  Tulips I can do.

I can’t remember the last time I sat on my front steps with a drink or a book and just soaked in everything.  Maybe I’ll do it today.  I have a lot on my mind.  It’s making me clumsy and distracted.  I need a reset button.  Something that will ground me.  Something that will synchronize me with the moment again today.  My metaphorical, red construction paper heart has done too much leaping this week and is arrhythmic, throwing off all the rest of me.  I want it to stop, but I really don’t want it to stop.